Beep!
by katierosefun
Summary: Poor John. He's just trying to type up his blog, and the Holmes brothers refuse to communicate regularly.


**Hello, everyone! Katierosefun here! XD **

**This is my second Sherlock Fan Fic, and yes, it's still one of these stupid little one-shots. For some reason, before I actually begin to write multi-chapter fics, I always warm up to the fandom by writing one-shots that can range from either really, really silly to angsty stuff. :/**

**This story is inspired by this really cute drawing I saw on Pintrest when I was skimming through pictures late at night because I was extremely bored…anyways, it was a picture of John trying to type on his blog and Sherlock and Mycroft kept exchanging texts and it was annoying the heck out of the poor doctor. XD **

**So, being my crazy self, I decided to write a fic on it! Please enjoy, review, give feedback, and no hate! **

John was typing away on his laptop when the first 'beep' came from Mycroft Holmes' phone. At first, he didn't think too much of it—Mycroft was bound to get certain messages from other people, working in the government and all.

Then came the second text alert noise—one that was a bit _too _familiar. It came from none other than Sherlock's phone.

John really did wish that Sherlock would change his text tone.

As John continued to type a new post of his blog, multiple text message alerts sounded throughout the silent flat until he couldn't hear anything but Sherlock and Mycroft's texts.

It didn't occur to him until a couple minutes later that Sherlock was angrily typing away on his phone—Mycroft's expression mirrored his younger brother's.

John sighed and stared at the two men.

Sherlock had his jaw set into an annoyed scowl as he pressed harder on the keys. With a triumphant smile, the message was sent and John could see that whatever Sherlock had written to his older brother wasn't pleasant at all.

Mycroft tapped away at his own phone angrily and Sherlock's text tone sounded.

Sherlock's lips turned into a deep-set frown at the message sent to him and the noises of his fingers pressed against the screen of the phone became _much_ louder.

John bit back an annoyed moan and struggled to return back to typing his blog. He couldn't _quite_ recall _why_ Mycroft and Sherlock were in the same flat together.

He was pretty sure it was Mrs. Hudson's idea, but it didn't matter _who_ arranged the meeting.

As each text message alert came, John's fingers stiffened more and more until he simply stopped typing and slammed his laptop screen over the keyboard.

"Will you two just _talk to each other?!_" John yelled furiously. "_Some_ people would like to write without _any_ distractions!"

"You chose to live with my brother. You can't expect that you'd be living life without any 'distractions'." Mycroft replied drily, his eyes still concentrated on the phone screen.

"Yet, you were the one who decided to share a flat with me." Sherlock said, showing no acknowledgement of what his brother had said before.

John looked back and forth between the Holmes brothers and shook his head. "Sherlock, Mycroft just—"

"John, I am fully aware of what my brother said. Go back to typing your silly blog." Sherlock muttered venomously, his fingers typing quickly on the phone.

John's shoulders stiffened as he heard another text alert. "At least put your phone on vibrate!" He snapped.

"Can't do that, John. I enjoy the sound of my text tone, actually." Sherlock murmured.

"I don't think I'll be able to even if I can try, John. I can't have myself answering at three minute intervals." Mycroft said without looking up.

John threw his hands up in the air and he stormed over to them.

With a small harrumph, he plucked the phones from their hands and crossed his arms.

"John!" Sherlock cried out, surprised. "Give me back my phone!"

"Kindly return my phone back, John. There are some rather important details in there that can't be placed in the wrong hands." Mycroft said icily.

John tucked the phones into his pockets and replied, "If you two are going to talk to each other, actually _talk._ Don't use phones—is it really necessary to use them when you're in the same _room_?"

"I'm trying not to talk to him, actually." Sherlock said, crossing his legs carelessly.

"Well…interact in a way that doesn't include phones!" John replied, exasperated and returned to his armchair where he could write in peace.

It wasn't even five minutes after before John heard Mycroft shouting, "_You will not communicate using smoke signals!_"

John's eyes widened and he stood up quickly. He turned his head around to look into the kitchen and, sure enough, a rather bored looking Sherlock Holmes was holding a lighter and an unlighted cigarette.

"Sherlock, no smoking, remember?" John asked, grabbing at the cigarette.

"_Argh!_" Sherlock growled, obviously frustrated and he flopped back down on the couch. "I don't know what else to _do!_"

"Just talk to him." John said, shrugging. "It's not that hard."

"You don't know my brother."

John chose not to answer that.

After several moments of silence, Sherlock asked, "Where are the torches?"

"In the cabinet." John replied, fixed on the glowing screen of his laptop.

He saw Sherlock jumping off the couch from the corner of his eye and seconds later, the lights were flicked off.

John moaned out loud this time. "_Sherlock!_"

It took him a couple moments to adjust to the sudden darkness and then with a start, he realized that the Holmes brothers were flashing each other code with the torches.

John rubbed his brow tiredly. He would never understand the Holmes brothers or their unusual little ways of communication.


End file.
